Tag Archives: friendship

I lost a friend
today.
We were
in separate boxes,
never looking
at eachother.
We were
content to be
separate planets
orbiting suns
in opposite ends
of the galaxy.
We were
never meant
to be
anything more
than pennies and dimes
mixed in a vending machine,
lost in time
to be change for
some grass heads’ four-twenty munchies.
Yet I
still feel guilt
for letting you go,
even though
I know
we would never have been
anything more
than two
mismatched socks
lost in the back
of some old
laundromat.

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Sometimes I randomly think of things or moments from the past. Sometimes they’re too vivid.

The City: Laundromat by Lori Nix

Tumble Dry
JCD Kerwin

We met
in the back of a laundromat,
in plastic chairs
much too big for us.
You told me where your life was at,
and he was the one, in fact,
you gave it all away to.
I wasn’t mad,
and I wasn’t sad
(you thought I’d never
speak to you again),
but I will admit it hit
and made my heart
fall and clank
like quarters on the floor.
No more talks,
rainy walks,
or dreaming of
Neverland.
It’s okay; I’m glad
you fell in love and
went your own way.
I just wish we hadn’t left
all we had
in the back of a laundromat.
(Dec 2014)